


one more try

by Marvellous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, M/M, smut in chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvellous/pseuds/Marvellous
Summary: An AU where angels keep humans as pets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liliaeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liliaeth/gifts).



> All mistakes are my own :)

Cold ached in Dean’s bones as he awoke, body bruised and battered, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness that surrounded him, the only light filtering in from what he assumed to be the door. Attempting to move resulted in chains rattling, bringing his attention to his wrists which were cuffed in iron.

The last thing he remembered was a stinging sensation on his neck and face, followed by a flash of grace that had burned everything inside him when he wasn't able to close his eyes fast enough. The feeling still lingered as he leaned against the cool marble walls behind him. He could hear whispers in his ears from the hallway, as always, but none of it legible. 

This whole process was all too familiar to him. A new angel would find him oh so appealing, not bothering to look beyond his outward appearance and assuming he would be the conforming pet they were looking for. All of them were sadly mistaken. They always thought they’d be the ones to break him, be able to force him to conform to their wishes. It was even true for some of them sometimes, but it got old when he fought it every time. Never was he wanted for something so simple as companionship, which would almost be tolerable, it always had to involve the holy fucks putting their hands where he didn’t want them. So he ended up back here, a never ending circle that he never fully expected to break. He never wanted this life to begin with, so he wasn't about to embrace it. 

“You’re awake,” a familiar voice filtered through his ears, making Dean tense, “You’ve been out for awhile, dear.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he shut his eyes as the heavy door swung open and a man strolled in, kneeling down and tilting Dean’s head up by his chin.

“Have to say, you’ve looked better, Winchester,” Zachariah drawled with a disappointed sigh, “It’s not gonna be easy to place you again. Ten different masters in the matter of five years, and now with this,” he dragged his finger along the sensitive side of Dean’s neck which now displayed the Enochian version of the word bitch in a deep black, burnt into his skin, followed by an equally as offensive but non-translatable word on the side of his face, “Maybe your newly decreased vision will make you easier to handle.”

“Sorry to be a let down,” Dean snarled, milky green eyes burning as he watched the blurry shape of the angel carefully, “Guess you’ll have to get rid of me.”

The hand flew to Dean’s cheek for the attitude, a smirk finding the pale lips as he shook his head, “Fortunately for you, we had someone inquire about anyone with Winchester blood not a week ago. Apparently he’s been looking for you for quite some time.”

Dean did his best to act uninterested, but his mind twisted to think of who this stranger could be. There most certainly was not an angel in his past who would be looking for him. 

“Caught your interest, haven’t I?” he chuckled, hand moving to the rest of the Enochian script on his body, gripping his bicep tightly, “Listen, this is your last chance. If you come back into our possession again, we can certainly put you to work elsewhere where your body will be more important than your attitude.”

Knowing better than to speak against him again, Dean bit his tongue, looking up at the ceiling instead of the angel.

“That’s what I thought.”

Two fingers pressed to his temple and once more Dean was flooded by darkness.

———

The next time Dean opened his eyes, it was nothing like he expected. Sunlight filtered through a window by the soft bed he was lying in, from where he could hear the soft chatter of birdsong. He tried to focus his sight, assuming it must be a dream, so surely he could see clearly. It didn’t work, which meant whatever this was, it was real.

His heart raced faster when he felt the touch of a warm rag on his bare chest, making him flinch.

“Dean, it’s okay, just stay still,” a voice said.

“Sammy?” his voice was hoarse as he lifted his head, wincing at the pain that in turn waved through his muscles.

Sam smiled at his brother, nodding as his voice broke, “Yah, Dean. It’s me.”

For the first time in thirteen years, Dean felt something else fill his body. Not dread or anger, but hope. Ignoring the pain, he sat up so he could throw his arms around his little brother who had filled out since he last saw him and wasn't exactly little anymore. The brothers stayed in one another’s arms silently for some time, having found each other at last.

“Where the hell are we? How’d you get away?” the questions poured from Dean’s mouth as he finally pulled away.

Sam stood up from kneeling beside the bed and sighed before sitting beside his brother, “I didn’t.”

“What?” Dean asked, confused as he looked around what seemed to be a normal room from what he could tell, “How are we here then?”

“This is my house, but I didn’t get away from anything. I stopped fighting it after a few years. It wasn't worth the pain,” Sam started to explain.

“You’re saying one of those winged dicks lets you live in your own house?” Dean asked unbelievingly. 

Sam huffed softly, “Gabe’s an archangel and he’s not…well, sometimes he is a dick, but he’s good to me. He lets me live a pretty normal life, and I’m here for him when he needs me. After six years…we trust each other, Dean.” 

Dean could hardly believe what he was hearing from his brother. They had vowed to fight their way out of this life that had been chosen for them, to get back to being normal, to find each other without being held by the angels their dad had sold them to. They had somehow stayed together until Dean was twenty-five, sold as a pair on multiple occasions, but Dean’s unwillingness had been the thing to separate them in the end. People wanted Sam, pretty on the eyes, willing to please, but with Dean as baggage, not so much. Didn’t mean he thought he’d be settling into the role so easily. His jaw hung open as he tried to find what he wanted to say.

“Without him, I would’ve never found you, Dean,” Sam defended himself against the unsaid words, standing up again and tossing Dean some clothes, “Get dressed then come downstairs. We need to talk some more.” 

Dean watched the shape of Sam disappear through the door. A door that closed without locking. The fabric of the cotton t-shirt and denim jeans was foreign in his hands, textures he hadn’t felt in ages. Wearing it was even stranger, the way it moved with his body and rubbed against the rough scars that littered his legs and most of his back. The red and black flannel his brother provided him was enough to cover the rest of the black ink on his arms, and besides the uncoverable blemishes, he almost felt normal…a foreign term, seeing as the last time he’d worn clothes like this was when he was sixteen. Also in the pile which Sam had tossed to him was a leather cuff with a buckle, which sported a brass metal plate on it, etched with words he would never be able to make out.

He shoved that in his pocket before slowly making his way in the direction Sam had disappeared, carefully taking the stairs one at a time so he didn’t trip on anything that might have blended into them. 

“Oh shit, sorry, Dean. I should’ve stayed to help you,” Sam appeared after hearing the slow steps of his brother making his way downstairs.

Dean shrugged him off as they reached the bottom, “I’m not blind.”

“Yah, well you’re close,” Sam said bluntly, “Your sheet said you can see shapes…that’s not a lot to work with.”

He didn’t want to prove Sam’s point anymore, but upon following him into what he assumed to be the living room, he hit his shoulder against the doorframe. “Whatever,” he muttered, then pulled the leather thing out of his pocket, “What is this supposed to be?”

“That is your upgrade from a collar, my friend,” a new voice said from the couch, making Dean flinch.

“Who are you?”

“Hey, it’s okay. Dean, this is Gabriel,” Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and gently took the bracelet from his hand, not waiting for Dean’s permission before he attached it to his wrist, “I have one too. It just says your name and your new ID number, that’s it.”

Dean didn’t resist. He was still under ownership, and it certainly beat heavy iron or a collar strapped onto his neck like he was a glorified dog. He could see Gabriel standing up and coming over towards him, rolling up the sleeves on the flannel he wore and taking interest in reading what his arms said.

“You’ve got one hell of a past,” he said after breezing over the list of everything Dean had done that didn’t fit expectations, and emblems of his previous owners, “I’m surprised you were still in the system. Then again, someone with the same blood as my Sam, maybe they were right to keep you around.”

There was something different about this particular angel. From his experience, they were all rough and inconsiderate douchebags. Gabriel was…different. Perhaps Sam was onto something, but Dean wasn't about to let his guard down.

“You’re allowed to talk, you know,” Gabriel said, sharing a glance with Sam.

Dean relaxed slightly at that unexpected allowance, “What?”

“Wow,” Gabe shook his head, as if he couldn't believe that Dean wasn't used to that basic thing.

Sam hadn't let his hand leave Dean’s shoulder until then, when it was replaced by Gabriel’s.

Dean fought every instinct in his body to pull away, letting the feeling of the angel’s grace rush through him as his wounds healed, leaving him breathless and his body refreshed as it hadn’t been for years.

“I can’t do anything about your eyes, unfortunately,” he said regretfully as he stepped back again, “Castiel doesn’t mind when someone is a little…damaged, though.”

“Castiel?” Dean asked, the new name not sounding familiar to him.

Sam stepped in then, “Castiel is Gabe’s brother. He thought you two might make a good pair.”

“You’re getting rid of me just like that?”

“No, I’m giving you as a gift,” Gabriel said, and Dean could tell he was smiling, “I’m just more of a…one human kinda angel.”

The way Sam ducked his head, Dean could tell he was blushing. Years may have passed, but Sam would always be a gushy dork when he had feelings for someone. 

“Castiel on the other hand, he hasn’t had one in ages. Says he doesn’t want one, either…but you, well there’s no way the angels will let you go free ,and with that on your neck, you wouldn't exactly be accepted into society. I think maybe you might mesh together alright,” the angel explained further as he stepped away from Dean.

“Dean, Cas is a good angel. Just give it a chance, alright?” Sam said quickly.

“Besides, the guy’s in Heaven right now, attending to some angel business…won’t be back Earth-side for more than a month at least. I’ll leave you and your brother for the time being. Give you time to get rebooted,” Gabe added.

Dean didn’t like the idea of being separated from his brother after just being reunited, but he wasn't going to pass on the time he was being offered either.

———

And so, the months passed, and Dean was able to find more of himself. Scars started fading with the help of some angelic things which he’d surely never been offered before. That combined with the sudden freedom and his brother at his side i, he rediscovered parts of him that had been long buried since he was a teenager, and parts he didn’t even know existed.

Spending twenty two years under ownership of the worst angels hadn't left much time for personal expression or hobbies. Dean fell into a routine that was easy. Always it started with coffee, because he found it irresistible, usually followed by talking with Sam for hours, but for the most part staying in the comfort of the house. It wasn't exactly easy for Dean to get around, so even when Sam offered to take him out, he declined. It wasn't just his sight, either. He knew he had marks that weren't easily covered now, which would forever leave him identifiable. If there were people like when he was kids, he knew he wouldn't be welcome in many places. He did enjoy the yard on sunny days, though. Everything was bright and he could make out the shapes of birds as they fluttered around the yard. It was easily the most at peace he’d felt since his mom had sung him lullabies as a child. 

He had found years of music he’d missed out on as well, though he found himself listening only to the stuff he’d grown up with that he’d played repeatedly in the 67’ Impala his dad had owned. He had said to Sam that if he could see clearly, that would be the thing he’d want to see again. Everything from her shiny black exterior and those creaky doors that his dad never oiled because he insisted it added to the character, Sam and his initials carved into her forever…all the details were still in his head.

Dean also learned about Castiel, from Sam mostly, though Gabe dropped by occasionally and would add something new. He had been an important angel during the war, being one who helped negotiate peace between the angels and humans. He had then found life on Earth to be what suited him best, preferring to live a life similar to a human here instead of an angel in heaven, and kept a house on the outskirts of the city. Apparently Chicago was a popular city for angels to keep residence. 

The time passing made it easier for the idea to sink into Dean’s brain. Especially with the fact that his eyesight would make it near impossible to make it out there if he somehow managed to get away anyways. From what he could tell, Castiel and Gabriel had different approaches as to what ownership of people meant, and Dean wanted to think his life would continue like it was being with his brother. The shadow of doubt of course found him anyways. This Castiel, he hadn't had a human for more than one hundred years, of which the details were impossible to get out of anybody, and he certainly wasn't choosing Dean of his own free will, so why would he feel like he needed to keep him? The chance of being rejected by the one angel that sounded promising, was high. And what happened if Dean refused him too? He still wasn't too keen on any angel fucking him. 

When the day came, it was a random warm early summer day, and Dean wasn't good at tracking the passing of time, but he was fairly sure it had been more than two months from that day when he ended up with Sam. Sam had wanted to come, but Dean said to stay. It wasn't like they weren't going to see each other for another decade, and part of him wanted this pivotal moment to be just for him.

“Alright, Dean-o, here we are,” Gabriel whistled as he opened the latch on a creaky white wooden gate that he had zapped them both too. Dean held a bag over his shoulder with clothes Sam had bought for him and looked around. From what he could tell, there weren’t many other houses around, and the one in front of them was surrounded by a pretty white fence and the many different colours in the yard suggested flowers. 

Gabe walked up the stone pathway first so Dean could follow him easily, knowing there weren't many things he had to worry about tripping over. The crooked stairs proved to be difficult to some degree, but he was alright once he got to the top. 

“Hey Cas, heard you were back,” the archangel sung as he let himself into the house through the blue door.

Dean did his best to distinguish what he could about the house. The large windows that let in lots of light, the wooden floors, where the furniture was placed…three blurry white and brown shapes cascaded down the stairs with a chorus of mews as soon as the door had shut. “Are those cats?” Dean asked worriedly.

“Marigold, Tansy and Dahlia,” Gabriel rattled off their names as if he thought they were ridiculous, then he looked at Dean skeptically, “You’re not scared of cats, are you?”

“No, I’m allergic,” Dean defended himself.

A huff of laughter left Gabe’s lips as he put his fingers on Dean’s temple, causing a rush to go through the man’s body, “There, now you aren’t.”

The three siamese cats took a special interest in swirling around Dean’s legs, as if they sensed that he was going to be sticking around.

“He’s probably back in his stupid garden. Wait here.”

Footsteps faded and Dean was alone with the cats. He let his bag slide to the floor as he dared to step into the house more, hand on the nearest wall to help him find his way. Finding himself in what he assumed to be the living room, his fingers went over the contents of what seemed to be a bookshelf, the spines of books meticulously aligned. 

His ears perked up from voices he could hear through a partially open back door. The floors creaked under his feet as the three cats trailing behind him made a beeline for that door. Dean watched their shapes and followed them, pausing in the kitchen where he could hear the voices clearly enough.

“Why the hell would you do that, Gabriel?”

“Because, I know you’re lonely.”

“I’m not!”

“You are. You mope around and go back and forth from heaven trying to find things to do, because you keep blaming yourself for her death…but it wasn't your fault, Cas. Things happen, and you have to move on.”

Silence followed before Gabe continued, “Just take things slow with Dean, and I promise it’ll pay off. You know how good Sam is, Dean could be that way too.”

“But I don’t want-“

A swoosh of wings.

“-him.”

Dean bit his lip nervously at the new absence of Gabriel, and realized he should get back to the front door and pretend he hadn't been snooping…as much as a half blind human could. 

In his rush he slammed into a table against the wall, sending a box clattering to the floor and it’s contents spilling across the floor.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed as he got to his knees and started picking them up, of which were all thin square shaped objects. In his rush he pieced together that they must be records, but he stored that away for later upon hearing heavy footsteps behind him.

“What’s going on?” the rich gravelly voice snapped.

Dean closed his eyes and looked up at the shape of the angel in front of him. If he had been able to clearly take him in, he would've seen the mess of dirt on his cheeks and hands from working outside in the yard and the piercing blue eyes, the only anger in them meant for the brother that had sprung Dean on him without much warning. 

“S-sorry,” Dean stammered as he put what was in his hands back in the box, “I wasn't watching where I was going.”

Castiel sighed and his posture relaxed as he knelt down to help Dean put everything back where it had been, shaking his head, “It’s fine.”

Nothing was said as they cleaned up the mess, Dean not sure what to say, or if it was his place to say anything at all. He didn’t know if Castiel had rules or anything.

Finally, the angel stood and offered his hand to help Dean up as well.

Accepting, Dean’s grip was strong as he pulled himself up with his help, stumbling a bit upon reaching his full height, hand on Castiel’s chest for support. He could feel the muscles of the other’s vessel were well defined under the close fitting shirt he wore, and his hand brushed upon a leather strap on his chest which held his angel blade at his side. His smell was something like upturned dirt after a spring shower and the sweet and comforting smell of warm cedar. 

Castiel put a hand on Dean’s bicep to help steady him, watching his eyes that were covered with a hazy film, “Are you alright?”

Dean nodded, “Yes…thank you.”

“What happened to your eyes?” Castiel inquired as he broke away to pick up the box and put it back on the table.

“The last angel I belonged to decided to show me the real them,” he said.

The way Castiel studied him, Dean wondered if he must be reading what could be seen above his shirt collar. 

Movements slow, Dean took off his sweater, revealing his arms as well. If he was Castiel’s property, than it was his right to read it. Sure enough, the angel stepped back to him and looked at the writing carefully, hand holding on to Dean’s wrist.

“If you’re so much trouble, why haven’t you made a break for it yet? Surely Gabriel would've been easy to escape.”

“Half blind, property of heaven, wouldn't exactly make it very far anymore,” Dean pointed out. 

Castiel grunted softly, seeing his point.

“Look-“

“I know, you don’t have much choice in this situation, but I’m…I don’t want a human in my life right now.”

Dean didn’t know this angel, but part of him was already drawn to him, having had months in advance to get used to the idea of belonging to him. Being rejected so quickly made his spirits fall.

“You can stay…just, don’t consider yourself mine, okay?”

Although it was hard to so quickly throw that particular detail away, Dean knew that was more than he could've asked for, so he nodded, more willing than he’d ever been.

———

Dean had been right about one thing; His life stayed comfortable. 

The first weeks of being at Castiel’s were the hardest, adjusting to getting around a new house shared with an angel who wanted nothing to do with him. The first few days he was sure to show him where everything was, bathroom, things in the kitchen, the basics. Doing things on his own however without Sam’s help proved to be a task. Making coffee out of different food items had happened one too many times to assure him of that. As far as he knew, Castiel was always around as well, but he rarely ran into him. When they crossed paths, occasionally the angel would ask him if he was okay, or Dean would apologize for running into him, but that was it.

Sam stopped by a few times to check on how Dean was settling in, helping him find things he needed and what not. Other than that, the most contact he got was from the cats which had taken to curling up with him during the night, they also proved helpful since they were always walking in front of him, making Dean more sure of getting around the house itself. His teenage years had been spent despising the animals, but now his tune had changed a great deal.

On nice days when Castiel was found outdoors, where Dean could see much easier without the shadows and angles of the indoor architecture, he got into a habit of sitting on the back porch steps and watching his stocky fit shape move around, planting and tending to the yard so it stayed in the shape it was in, which Dean assumed to be very beautiful. The scent of it alone was enough to assure him of that. He assumed it was very special to Castiel, given the large amount of time he spent on it.

No bone in his body missed the pain of his past life, but it had slowed to something comparable to dull, and he found himself wanting more than he was getting. He wanted more contact, he wanted to be looked at, he wanted to be touched and acknowledged, and though he knew little of him, he ached for Castiel.

One morning, he found himself on his usual step with a mug of coffee in his hands, the darkest of the three cats snuggled to his thigh with her eyes closed contently, the vibration of her purrs comforting.

He heard him before he was aware of Castiel walking down the steps and into the yard, but instead of walking right past him, this time he paused and turned towards Dean. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Dean asked with a tilt of his head, looking up at Castiel.

“Sit here all the time,” he sad, crossing his arms on his chest, “Don’t you have things you'd rather do?”

“Not really…I already got sick of the movies that Sam brought for me,” Dean said with a shrug, “Watching stuff is only so much fun when it’s just fuzzy shapes on a screen. I’d rather be outside, anyways.”

“Doesn’t it get boring?” 

“It’s alright. Your cats keep me company enough. Can’t really go anywhere on my own.”

Castiel frowned slightly, “Can I do anything for you?”

So much, Dean wanted to scream, but he shook his head slowly, “I’m okay.”

“Want me to show you around the garden?”

Dean’s interest perked, it was the first gesture of anything beyond nonchalant acknowledgment. He hadn’t dared stepped into the yard before, afraid that he would most definitely trip and fall and wreck the constantly cared for flowers and plants. “Sure,” he said, as casually as he could muster, “Can’t promise I’ll be able to see much, though,”

Castiel shook his head as helped Dean stand up guiding his hand to the leather strap across his chest so he’d have something to hold on to, “You don’t need to, Dean.”

They walked around the edge first, which was bordered by a variety of larger trees and shrubs, that Castiel was sure to stop at each kind and pull a leaf or flower before pressing it to Dean’s palm to let him touch and/or smell as he told him all about every one.

“These golden birch trees are some of my favourites,” he explained about the couple trees they had stopped in front of, pressing Dean’s hand to the smooth and shiny bark itself, “I’m actually amazed I ever got them to grow this large.”

Dean felt the tree, but he was more focused on the angel’s hand that hadn’t yet left his, the warmth welcome. Instead of responding to the facts he was being told, he felt a smile find the corners of his lips.

“What?” Castiel asked suddenly, breaking away from talking about the trees.

“Nothing,” Dean ducked his head at first, wondering if he should bother saying anything, “I just like you talking to me, s’all.”

Another frown found his lips as he dropped his hand and they kept walking, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so closed off. I’m not very good at the whole social thing.”

Dean shrugged, “Don’t worry about it.”

Castiel continued, “I also thought you probably wanted to be left alone after everything you’ve been through.”

“That’s the last thing I want, Castiel,” he said with a quick shake of his head. Maybe that was what he had wanted…but that was before he’d been around Castiel.

Castiel stopped once again, picking a flower off the bush in front of them, watching Dean smell it while he held it up for him.

“Cas,” he corrected him, hand swiftly moving to tuck the flower behind his ear, fingers lingering on the black ink on the side of his face as his thumb brushed an eyelash off his cheek.

“Cas,” Dean repeated, leaning into the touch of the angel’s hand and smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this, and I didn't dive too far into their relationship, instead keeping it sort of open to interpretation at the end, but I hope the reader has a sense of promise as to where they're headed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little instalment...not much plot though, Dean wakes up from a nightmare and it turns smutty from there.

Dean awoke with a shout on his lips, met by the feel of a slick sheen of sweat over his brow and the scrambling of claws as a spooked cat bolted for somewhere to hide. His heart raced as he tried to place where he was, eyes unable to adjust to the dark surroundings. Brain hazed by sleep, he feared to move, for fear his dream had followed him into the waking world. Hurried footsteps outside the bedroom door caused bated breath, and eyes shut tight as the door opened. 

“Dean?” a rough voice sounded from the doorway as the hallway light filtered into his room.

Relief flooded Dean’s muscles, but he still didn’t open his eyes, “Cas?”

The footsteps came closer and the mattress dipped with the weight, a gentle hand touching Dean’s shoulder encouraging him to sit up, “Are you okay? I heard you shout.”

A groan escaped his lips as Dean sat up. “I’m fine,” he said, but his voice shook as he put his hands over his face in an attempted to breathe easier.

“Don’t lie to me,” Castiel said softly, taking off his sweater and draping it over the mans shoulders.

His heart beat faster and the ease of breath did not come, a swell of panic making itself known to the rest of his body. He reached out and fisted the fabric of Castiel’s shirt in his fist, hands trembling, “I have to get out of here.”

Castiel was calm as he assisted Dean to his feet, “Come on, lets get some fresh air. It’ll be easier to breathe outside, okay?”

Dean nodded, his eyes pricking with the threat of tears while he felt like he was running out of oxygen in his lungs. His feet felt like lead as he started to follow the other, relying solely on his guidance over his limited vision this time.

The angel was silent as he kept his hand on Dean’s forearm, down the stairs and out to the back porch, which luckily was not far.

A gasp left Dean’s lips as the warm summer night air washed over him and into his lungs, a light breeze ruffling through the light brown muss of his hair. The shaking of his body calmed somewhat, but still persisted as he found shelter within Castiel’s waiting arms. 

The weeks had been kind to the blossoming of the friendship between them. Cas no longer avoided Dean so readily, instead spending most all of their days together. In that time he had come to see the struggles Dean had, the memories of the past 22 years a haunting stamp in his brain that he was sure would never fully fade. So Castiel had taken to caring for the man, seeing him as someone who needed his help above all else, and was good company as well. Previous nights, he had heard Dean suffering from the turmoil of nightmares, but usually when he checked the other was always still fast asleep. Not tonight. 

Castiel rubbed his hand on Dean’s back, half of their bodies lit by the yellow porch light, the other half a pale blue from the nearly full moon in the sky. “You’re alright,” he spoke softly to the other.

Dean hugged him tighter, wanting to believe the words that had so easily found his ears. 

“Just breathe,” his voice got lower as he held Dean with the silent promise to not let go unless the other wanted to, “You’re safe here, Dean. I promise. Everything will be alright. No one will ever hurt you again, not while you’re in my care, I swear it.”

His image of Cas was virtually nonexistent, but at that moment, Dean had never seen someone in his life so clearly. The angel was his safe space, his protector, the thing that had been missing from his life all along. This place, the cats, the garden and, more specifically, Cas, was his home. It had only taken more than two decades since he had been sold into this hellish life that he finally found someplace that made sense. But he was here now. Gradually his heart slowed, and he moved his head off of Castiel’s shoulder to look at the other, eyes wet but lacking the tears that never ended up falling. “Thank you,” Dean said sincerely.

Castiel closed his mouth as he watched the man in front of him, who if he didn’t know better he would've sworn was studying every part of his vessel’s face. Thoughts left his head and he put his thumb and a finger under Dean’s chin to tilt his face ever so slightly, closing the minimal distance between them both. It was quick, so quick that neither really registered what was happening. “I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured, blue eyes stuck to the lips he had just tasted, leaning their foreheads together.

Dean’s heart sped up once more, but not out of fear this time. The crickets seemed to sing louder and a stronger gust of wind reminded him that the world was still turning. “Don’t…no…” he rushed, not sure how to approach the fact that the contact had been what he wanted, and that he didn’t want Castiel to apologize for it. Instead, he moved to push back into the lips he had dreamed about feeling against his own. His nose smooshed against Castiel’s cheek in a miscalculation of where said lips actually were, though he quickly corrected himself in centring himself completely.

An amused huff left Castiel’s lips at the eagerness that Dean seemed to possess, gently pushing him off with a shake of his head, “Wait. Let’s go inside, you probably need to get some rest.”

“No,” Dean said defiantly, before turning his head and wincing, expecting a blow that never came for disobeying a suggestion like that. He looked back to Cas and shook his head, “I’m not ready to go back inside yet. Can we just…stay here.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know that, but the air…the air moves better out here…I won’t ever be able to fall asleep if I go back in right now.”

Castiel hesitated.

Dean became more desperate, clinging tighter to the body in front of him as he nudged along the ridge of Castiel’s jaw, “Please.”

“Dean,” Castiel said as his lips pressed to Dean’s temple, “I don’t like engaging in this behaviour with humans.”

Ignoring what he had been told, Dean’s lips moved down the angel’s neck, part of his usual self making an appearance as he snorted, “Pretend I’m not human, then.” He slowly started to move backwards, knowing the steps down into the yard were behind him, cautious as he moved one foot at a time to find his way down, at the same time pulling Castiel along with him.

Cas bit his lip, and though there was resistance, he ultimately let himself be guided by Dean into the yard where their footsteps were padded by the earth below them.

The grass held moisture and was a cool contrast to the heat in the air on Dean’s bare feet. He shouldered off the wool sweater of Castiel’s, kneeling down and tugging the other to join him.

Both on their knees, Castiel shook his head at the other, “I don't want to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not,” Dean promised.

Castiel slipped a hand under the fabric of Dean’s t-shirt, fingers splayed across his abdomen as he gently pushed him onto his back. Bathed in the soft light of the moon, surrounded by the contrast of the deep green of the shadowed grass, he marvelled at how beautiful this man was. He laid on his side beside the other, his other hand gently tracing the marks up Dean’s neck, calloused by years of various restraints on his neck. 

Dean flinched slightly but didn’t pull away from him, watching the outlines of his body moving beside his. “I wish I could see you,” he said softly, voice thick with the regret of the body he was now cursed with.

“Even if you could, this vessel is not me,” Castiel assured quietly, watching the milky green of Dean’s eyes as they fluttered closed.

“Good point.”

Castiel’s hands moved with Dean’s to help him pull his shirt off, leaving the rest of his torso exposed to the elements, and Castiel’s gaze. His sides were covered in various more enochian phrases and angel insignias, and Cas knew none belonged on him anymore. Dean wasn't meant for this life, but there was few ways he could escape it now. His underwear followed quickly after his shirt, exposing his already hard cock.

Dean caught Castiel’s lips between his teeth and put his hands on either side of his face, fingers curling into the soft dark waves of his hair. “Cas,” he gasped, “I need you.”

Shifting his weight, Cas got to his knees again and leaned over Dean, the other chasing his lips as he pulled up slightly.

Curling his fingers into his biceps, Dean whined as he pulled away fully, “Don’t go.”

“I’m not,” Castiel spoke as he took his shirt off as well. 

The desire for the other had flooded Dean’s entire body, pressing into ever dip and crevice he could find in Castiel’s body in desperation to bring him closer, the product of a contained fire that was now allowed to burn freely. A few fucks here and there over the years with some random people never compare to the raw lust he felt now. For an angel no less.

“Dean…Dean, slow down. We have time,” Cas breathed between kisses, slipping a leg between Dean’s thighs, “All the time we need.” 

Trying to take heed of his words, Dean nodded shortly, hooking a leg behind Castiel to keep him there. His hand raised to palm at the bulge within Castiel’s own pants. He may be an angel, but his nature was undoubtedly human. 

Cas turned his head upward at the contact, shutting his eyes tight as the threat of a pleasured sound bobbed in his throat. A tremble in his hand, he gently moved Dean’s hand away so he could stand and remove them, leaving both of their bodies out in the open. 

Dean had quickly pulled him back to where he was before, sharing the heat of all their exposed skin. 

Placing his palms on Dean’s shoulders, Castiel looked him in the eyes and smiled softly.

Taking that moment to pause and recalibrate, Dean’s lungs heaved at the increasing pressure down below, but he wanted to slow down and enjoy this for all it was worth as well. Unable to see the expression on Castiel’s, he outstretched his hand to touch his fingers to his face, tips finding the edges of his lips. The muscles there twitched, signalling he must smiling, which made Dean grin in turn, “So you’re enjoying this after all, sweetheart?”

Castiel pressed a kiss to Dean’s palm, “Perhaps.”

A shiver raced down Dean’s spine, soaking in the cool of the grass against his flushed skin.

“Just relax. I’ll take care of us, Dean,” Castiel muttered against his skin as he moved to Dean’s chest, taking his time to press the gentlest of touches as he moved, fluttering over the ridges of indents and scars. Each time he reached one, Dean’s body tensed, and shame could be felt from him in waves. “You’re beautiful,” Cas whispered soothingly, murmuring sweet nothings the whole way down Dean’s body, and by the time he’d reached his cock his body had relaxed noticeably.

“Cas,” Dean breathed as his back arched.

One of Castiel’s hands found purchase on Dean’s hip, steadying them both, while the other dug into the ground beside them.

Dean’s body writhed at the contact, able to hear his own heart beat at the way Castiel skillfully ran his fingers over Dean’s cock before his plump lips wrapped around him, causing his eyes to shut against the already dark world.

The motions of the other were calculated, quick and effective. Swirling his tongue around the edge of Dean’s dick caused ripple effects through his body, making him squirm in the best possible way, and Castiel loved it. He purposefully made his movements slower to draw out the anticipation and the rush that was sure to come.

“I’m gonna…Cas, I wanna…you,” Dean grasped for his words as he tried to tug the other back up before he came.

Cas opened his mouth to let Dean’s dick fall out before he nodded, letting his hand pick up where his mouth had left off, drifting back up to kiss Dean’s cheek.

The pleasure that coursed through Dean’s body made him moan, hands once more intertwining with Castiel’s hair, toes curling at the release he felt. 

Castiel let their lips dance and move together before burying his face in the crook of Dean’s shoulder, breathing in everything that made him ‘Dean’. He took small pride in the fact he smelt somewhat like him now, the same soap, same laundry detergent…it was all Castiel would ever need to mark Dean as his own. Reaching for his own cock, it didn’t take long to coax his vessel over the edge either. 

They were a mess, but all smiles as they kissed each other, in whatever bare spaces of skin they could. 

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s middle and kissed his neck as he held him close again, finding the most comfort in the contact with him, “That was-”

“-enjoyable,” Castiel finished for him as he pecked the bridge of the Dean’s nose, marvelling at the freckles that resided there.

“Could say that,” Dean said with a near laziness to his voice as he twirled strands of hair between his fingers, a free hand tracing over Castiel’s face and creating a visual for himself.

Working on bringing his adrenaline down, Castiel leaned his head against Dean’s, “Would you like to go inside now?”

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, breathing in the scent of flowers and midnight dew, knowing the sky would begin turning a light shade of lilac before long. It was warm and comfortable, and out here with no sheets or mattresses to worry about sticking to, it didn’t seem like such a bad thing, “Not yet.”

Castiel’s lips twitched again before he let himself fall to his back beside Dean, staring breathlessly up at the sky as he nodded, “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this, and I didn't dive too far into their relationship, instead keeping it sort of open to interpretation at the end, but I hope the reader has a sense of promise as to where they're headed.


End file.
